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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24649852">Crux Fidelis</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_topolina/pseuds/la_topolina'>la_topolina</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Unstoppable Force/Immovable Object Continuity [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Family, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Religion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:08:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24649852</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_topolina/pseuds/la_topolina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Trouble is brewing in the vestibule on Good Friday, and its name is Bill and Charlie Weasley.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Unstoppable Force/Immovable Object Continuity [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Crux Fidelis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The Greek and Latin text is being sung by the choir.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>What was I thinking? </em>Molly Weasley wondered for the umpteenth time that afternoon. Her feet were numb and she knew, if she were able to see through her massive abdomen, her ankles were swollen to several times their usual size. Although she was not as far along in her current pregnancy as the good people of the world were kind enough to speculate, she was a short woman and, unfortunately, it seemed that she had inherited her mother’s tendency towards stoutness when carrying extra weight. The floor under her battered feet was hard and forbidding; its marble patterns of crosses and lilies gave no comfort to the young mother. Indeed, the floor seemed to lie in wait, eager to cause injury to Molly’s young sons who were currently racing around the vestibule, practicing their best battle cries. Usually Molly would be most concerned that Bill and Charlie would trip on the slippery floor and crack their heads open but, at the moment, she was so humiliated by their behavior, that she half wanted to crack their heads herself. The racket the boys were making echoed mightily off the shining floor and the cut stone walls of the small space; and the painted angels on the ceiling glared down in disapproval as they brandished the instruments of the Passion in their gilded hands. Fortunately, more than one usher had taken it upon himself to shush Molly and her brood—as though she were not aware that it was customary to be silent during Mass. How good to know that all the commotion was interrupting the proceedings of Good Friday as well.</p><p>All in all, it was perfectly understandable that the boys were rambunctious at the moment. It was a gem of a spring afternoon, one of those delicious, warm, sunny days, made all the more delectable due to its following weeks of rain. Any healthy five and three year old child would be desperate to be outdoors on such a day and, really, Molly was almost to the point of giving up and taking them out to the park across the street. They had behaved perfectly at Mass the night before. She had sat with them and her husband Arthur, beaming with pride as Bill patiently followed the service. Charlie had sat quietly on Arthur’s lap, alternately studying a bible storybook and watching the solemn pageantry of the Maundy Thursday liturgy. Unusually for the young family, Molly had been the only one to leave the pew at all during the Mass in order to make a quick trip to the loo during the homily. She had been moved to tears by the end of the Mass when she observed her sons watching the procession from the high altar to the altar of repose, their little eyes wide with wonder. They had been particularly delighted by the little umbrella that was carried over the Host, and had wanted to know what it was called. Neither Molly nor Arther had been able to remember at the time, and she had meant to ask someone about it today, but now all she wanted was for the floor to split open and swallow her whole.</p><p>It had been her sons’ good behavior the night before that had made her decide to take them to Mass today. Arthur had been unable to secure the day off from work—he was new in his department at the Ministry—but she had wanted to be at church for Good Friday. The boys had been eager to come back as well, especially when she had gone through the bible picture book with them after breakfast to explain the story. Bill had said that he wanted to be like the two Marys and St. John and be with Jesus during the Crucifixion. Charlie had chimed in a “Me too!” in his sweet little voice as well. There had been a hint of trouble, of course, when the boys got a whiff of the fresh spring air. They had spent a good fifteen minutes before the Mass started running wildly around the churchyard, narrowly avoiding collision with several venerable matrons whose hawk-like countenances made their disapproval of such antics on such a day exceptionally clear. But Molly had been confident that the boys would settle down once they were back in the church and the ceremony had begun. And she had been correct, at least at the beginning. Bill and Charlie had been mightily impressed by the silent procession of the priests and altar boys that ended with the priests lying full length on the floor before the lonely, empty tabernacle. Unfortunately, they had lost patience during the long chanting of the choir, and the even longer chanting of the Passion, drawing again those irritated looks from those ever-helpful members of the faithful who require absolute silence in order to pray. Molly had shooed them out into the vestibule, her face flaming as red as her hair, and that was where they had been ever since.</p><p>Her task of curbing her children’s unseemly behavior was made all the more difficult by her current state, and she felt strongly aware how comical she looked as she waddled about, trying to get them under control. They weren’t bad boys, but they knew there was a limit as to how quickly their mother could run at the moment, and they were enjoying what they saw as a brilliant game. First, they would run and make noise until Molly hauled herself up off the bench in the back of the room and dragged herself over to them to shush them into silence. Then they would obey long enough for her to make her way back to the bench and, as soon as she was sitting down again, they would go back to running and shouting.</p><p>Molly had lost track of how many such stand, shuffle, scold, shuffle, sit trips she had made, but her anger grew with each one and, by the time the Passion was over, she was basically mad at the entire world. First and foremost, she was angry with her boys for their misbehavior. And she was angry with the old ladies for their judgement. She was angry with her husband for having to work when they should have been together as a family on such a holy day, and she was angry with the Ministry for their restrictive policies regarding personal days. She was angry at the beautiful spring weather—if it had been raining, surely her boys would not be so eager to be outside—and she was angry at the unending length of the service. But, more than anything, she was angry with herself for having thought it was a good idea to bring the boys to Mass alone in the first place. </p><p>“Catch, Bill!” cried Charlie in the high pitched voice that his mother usually found so endearing. </p><p>Molly snapped out of her miserable reverie in time to witness Charlie tossing a small ball of fluff to his older brother. Her eyes narrowed with rage and she hissed in a harsh voice that she hardly recognized as her own,</p><p>“Charlie! What are you doing? Is that a puffskein?!” </p><p>“Ummm…” the boys muttered as they exchanged guilty looks, perhaps realizing that they had pushed their mother too far. Bill held onto the puffskein so tightly that it started squeaking in protest and Charlie cowered behind his older brother as Molly bore down on them.</p><p>“What were you thinking?” Molly continued her tirade, “There are Muggles here! And to church of all places! It would serve you right if we got rid of that thing! In fact, that’s just what we’re going to do as soon as Mass is over.”</p><p>Bill’s little face crumpled into tears, and guilt pierced through Molly’s anger like a lance. Losing her temper was bad enough without having to look at the result of it reflected in her boy’s eyes. She snatched the puffskein, stuffed it into her already overfull handbag, and gave a sigh of defeat. It was time to go home.</p><p>With great difficulty, she knelt down and gathered Bill into her arms.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Mum,” he sniffed.</p><p>“No, I’m sorry. Let’s just get Charlie and…” Molly’s voice trailed off as she realized that her other son was no longer standing behind Bill.</p><p>“Where did he go?” she snapped, anger returning with her worry.</p><p>“I dunno.”</p><p>Molly grabbed Bill’s hand tightly and dragged him along on her search. She pushed open the heavy wooden door that separated the vestibule from the church and nearly tripped over Charlie where he stood, staring. Bill actually did bump into his little brother, but this did not start the usual scuffling as Bill was immediately just as hypnotized.</p><p>
  <em>“Agios o Theos. Sanctus Deus. Agios ischyros…” </em>
</p><p>“Mum, why doesn’t Father Steven have his shoes on?” Bill whispered, pointing.</p><p>The pride that Molly had felt the night before began to replace her anger. “To show how sad he is and how much he loves Jesus,” she gently explained.</p><p>The priest made his way slowly up the center aisle, stopping three times to genuflect. When he reached the nave, he prostrated himself before the carved gothic crucifix where it lay on a pillow. Fr. Steven kissed it reverently, and then rose, lifting the cross for the faithful to adore. As one, the boys sat down, right where they were, and took off their shoes. They handed them to Molly as they did, and soon she was holding onto four little pieces of footwear in addition to her stuffed handbag. But, for once, she didn’t mind. After they had gotten up off of the floor, Charlie grabbed Bill’s hand, and Bill grabbed onto Molly’s skirt. The three of them started drifting up the aisle to join the line of those waiting their turn. </p><p>
  <em>“Crux fidelis inter omnes, Arbor una nobilis,”</em>
</p><p>Molly felt her throat tighten as she thought of all the times she had failed to keep her temper with her boys. They were so young and they didn’t really understand how frustrating their wild behavior could be. She was proud of their liveliness most of the time, and she regretted now all of the moments when she had raised her voice, or spoken harshly to them.</p><p>
  <em>“Nulla talem silva profert, fronde, flore, germine.”</em>
</p><p>She was also sorry for all the times she’d lost her patience with Arthur for spending too much time tinkering with Muggle appliances, or for working late at the Ministry. She loved his enthusiasm for life and for his family. She loved his curiosity and his diligence. He really was a fine husband, and she regretted the times she’d muttered about him under her breath, or spoken sharply to him.</p><p>
  <em>“Dulce lignum, dulces clavos, dulce pondus sustinet.”</em>
</p><p>And she was sorry for all the times she had felt that her life as a wife and a mother was more of a burden than a blessing. She regretted all the times she had wanted to run away; simply to escape the demands to wash one more dish, to find one more sock, to read one more story. She would never be a perfect mother, and her children sometimes needed more from her than she was able to give, but she knew that she could and would keep doing her best. At the end of the day, that was all she was called to do.</p><p>When they reached the front of the line, the boys kept hold of each other’s hands, although Bill dropped Molly’s skirt. They genuflected together, going all the way down to the floor before standing back up. Bill kissed the feet of the corpus carefully, just as he had seen those before him doing, but Charlie hesitated a moment, studying the carving and apparently deep in thought. Finally, with a most reverent air, he slowly touched the feet of the carving with his forehead—the most solemn head-butt that had perhaps been given or received anywhere on this earth.</p><p>The boys stepped back together and Molly quickly reverenced the crucifix herself, wanting to do so before they lost interest and the spell was broken. She need not have worried though, for the moment the magic was firmly in place. The three of them wandered back up the side aisle to their pew, as if in a dream. The sun slanted in through the windows, illuminating the center one of Moses lifting up the brazen serpent magnificently. Millions of specks of dust hung in the air like tiny bits of gold, and the boys appeared particularly angelic as the sunlight bounced off their bright red hair. Molly remembered Fr. Steven explaining to her once how all the stories in the old testament could be understood as foreshadowing events in the new. She didn’t remember exactly why, but she knew that Moses and the serpent foreshadowed the Crucifixion itself. It was like looking through a glass, but darkly, just as we all must do in this vale of tears.</p><p>When the trio had settled themselves in the pew, the service was nearly ended. The boys snuggled cozily against their mother, one on each side. The bag with the puffskein was sitting on Molly’s lap, and the creature was humming quietly inside it. Although she knew it wouldn’t last, Molly felt completely at peace in a way that she had missed since the whole business with You-Know-Who began. There was so much uncertainty in life—especially now. But, for the moment at least, she and her boys were safe here in this church. She believed in her heart that their sufferings did not go unnoticed; not the big ones relating to the war, nor the small ones relating to the day-to-day troubles of motherhood and family. </p><p>The boys were still and silent as they watched the procession and the little umbrella that brought the Host back from the altar of repose to the sanctuary. The empty tabernacle seemed so lonely where it sat in the middle of the high altar, but soon the Host would return home to it, and it would be full. And Molly firmly believed that God would be with them until the end of their journeys; all the way until the time when they could enter the tabernacle of Heaven to dwell with the multitude that see Him face to face.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Translations of the Greek and Latin:<br/>Agios o Theos: Greek meaning Holy God.<br/>Sanctus Deus: Latin meaning Holy God.<br/>Agios Ischyros: Greek meaning Holy Mighty One.</p><p>The rest of the Latin is the Crux Fidelis which means:</p><p>Faithful Cross, among all,<br/>You are the noblest tree,<br/>No forest produces anything similar,<br/>In leaf, flower, or seed. </p><p>Sweetest wood and sweetest nails,<br/>Sustaining the sweetest weight. </p><p> </p><p>It is not customary for the faithful to remove their shoes during the Adoration of the Cross--Bill and Charlie are doing so here in pious imitation of the priests.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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